Dreaming of Utopia
by TungstenCat
Summary: Saber cannot help but recount her failures, dwell upon her sins. She finds her punishment in Chaldea, in the form of the beautiful stranger with the cruel smile and her loved one's face.
1. Chapter 1

Saber's blue dress and armor were almost invisible under the moonlight, covered as they were in splatters of black ichor from her recent battle, but that suited her purposes. The fewer people spotted her perched on the concrete edge of the railway overpass, eyes fixed anxiously on the tracks below as they stretched towards the darkened horizon, the better. She did not need an audience for the next steps of the violent dance in which she and her Master were engaged that night. Her ears strained against the silence, hoping for the telltale whistle of the scheduled _Ruthven Express_. She would jump down and join Rin on the train, and together they would wrap up this nightmare of a mission.

She hated being split up like this during their operations, even if she understood the necessity. It wasn't as if they'd had much time to plan. By the time they'd learnt that Karl Ernst von Haxthausen had escaped to Inverness, they'd had to mobilize immediately. As an alchemist of sinister reputation, even by the dubious standards of the Magus Association, it was unwise to let him fortify himself in a location for any length of time.

Worse, their sources indicated that his even more infamous partner, Lucrezia Lupa, was travelling by the earliest train to join him. A Dead Apostle, as Saber had learnt to call the cursed beings that preyed on innocent blood, along with her familiars. There wouldn't be a single human left alive in the rumbling cars, their essence drained to fuel her magic, their bodies raised as ravenous beasts to swell the ranks of her army.

Thanks to the unholy contract that bound them, the closer they drew to each other, the stronger their respective powers grew. They absolutely could not be allowed to convene, especially in a city full of fresh prey. Neither would hesitate to kill, as much as they deemed necessary, to build their strength.

Saber knew that the safest solution, the one that would be favoured by any self-respecting Enforcer, would be for Rin and herself to choose one of the pair and concentrate their attacks. Eliminate one threat before moving on to the other. The trouble, yet again, was that damnable contract. Linked by their very souls, each would readily sense the loss of the other. That in turn would lead to a bloodbath, as the survivor unleashed their hordes to run wild through the populace as a means of providing cover for an escape. Or, if the worst whispers about Lucrezia held truth, for the sheer sake of entertainment.

Most Enforcers would easily accept the collateral damage and focus their efforts on covering up the incident, but Saber could not stand by and allow such carnage. Not when she had the power to stop it. And for all of Rin's claims that she was a ruthless magus, that her heart was encased in ice, she wouldn't allow it either. That left the two women little choice other than to hunt their targets separately, and deliver their finishing blows simultaneously. So Saber had found herself on a motorcycle, riding north at breakneck speed to eat up the miles to Inverness, while her Master made arrangements to catch one of the most dangerous express trains in the history of the Moonlit World.

A gust of cold wind pulled Saber from her thoughts. Still no sign of the train, and she felt her impatience grow, threatening to pull her buried feeling of dread up with it. She sighed and tapped her radio headset, not for the first time.

"Come on, Rin. Pick up."

Still no response, but she fiercely strangled the fear that threatened to bloom in her breast. There was no reason to panic. There were many reasons why Rin might not be in a position to respond. She could be hidden in shadows and maneuvering around the enemy. She could be engaged in active combat. She could, Saber thought with a fond smile, simply be fumbling with the controls. Even after years of training, the magus remained uncomfortable with technology, especially when she was under pressure.

And that was without considering that Saber was a bit ahead of their agreed schedule. For all his wicked genius, Haxthausen was a magus, and her Servant class had always been the natural enemy of spellcasters. Strong magic resistance had let her pass unscathed through cursed runes and deadly spells that would have made a human's eyes boil in their sockets, while her blade made short work of his silver golems. She could understand why her quarry had chosen to flee rather than face her in honourable duel, even if it had forced her to cut him down like a bolting hare rather than a man.

Her success showed why sending her to dispatch the alchemist had been the correct decision, mutually agreed upon by Master and Servant. If only it had not meant sending Rin alone to confront a powerful vampire and all her twisted Dead. But there had been little choice, and Saber had learned not to underestimate her comrade and lover. She was a far cry from the green girl that had fought in the Fifth War. Years fighting against the darkest corners of the Moonlit World had shaped her into a veteran magus, quick-witted and deadly. She could trust in Rin's talent and composure to see her through.

_Are you so sure? _The thought crept in unbidden, turning her blood to ice. _Remember the last time you trusted so blindly in your comrade's abilities? That's how you lost Shirou._

She closed her eyes and braced herself as the flood of unwanted memories washed over her.

* * *

_Saber barreled down the crumbling passages of the old temple, leaving Rin trailing behind in her eagerness to rejoin the battle. The Voidstone had been shattered with a single strike from Excalibur, the malignant relic now scattered in harmless fragments on the dusty floor. Now to hurry back and relieve Shirou, before the swarming beasts overwhelmed him entirely. _

_The young man had been magnificent, broken phantasms exploding around him, Kanshou and Bakuya weaving deadly patterns in his hands, as he yelled that he would buy them the time they needed. Saber had been so proud of his bravery, understood his need to test himself against the foe. Rin had been less impressed, calling him a stubborn fool, but even she couldn't deny that his Reality Marble and its flight of flashing blades were their best bet to keep the summoned fiends at bay. _

_Now the task was complete, and she could again fight side-by-side with her lovers, stand strong against the darkness arrayed against them. But in the face of the growing stench of blood, along with the silence that had descended in the halls aside from their own hurried footsteps, she began to feel the first stirrings of dread. _

"_Shirou!" she called as she turned the corner, "We're h-" _

_Her throat constricted, strangling her words, as she took in the sight before her. The chamber was a sea of blood, littered with horrors in various states of dismemberment. The massive bulk of a scaled beast – a dragon, her mind informed her, but that was impossible, dragons had not lived in this world for centuries - was stretched out in the gore. Wounds covered it from the top of its horned head to the tips of its curved talons, serrated cuts left by the strikes of countless blades. Its flanks still heaved with dying breath, but her eyes were instead drawn to its tail, following the curve upwards to where the cruel sting was still embedded in the broken wall. And impaled along that blade of a tail –_

"_SHIROU!"_

_His body hung limply around the scaly appendage rammed through his chest, dangling in the air like a grotesque puppet. His hands trailed by his sides, their fingers rigidly curled as if still holding their missing swords. And the blood, pouring from the torn hole in his torso, his mouth, seeping through his coat to puddle below with soft plips. Saber was long familiar with the sight of death, but nothing could have prepared her to see it cruelly seize upon Shirou. The man who had captured her reluctant heart with his steadfast goodness and generosity and cold, he looked so cold hanging there. _

_She couldn't see the eyes, hidden by the slump of his head and the matted hair falling forward, but maybe that was a blessing because if she did see them glassy and dead she might scream and never stop screaming. Ah, she thought distantly, she was screaming anyway, before she realized the wordless cry of anguish was not her own. Distantly she saw Rin collapse on her knees, brackish red splashing up to stain her skin and clothes. In that moment, all Saber could think was that she had failed, just like she had failed Lancelot, just like she had failed her kingdom all those years ago._

* * *

It had been years now, but the memory still hurt, a jagged thing lodged in her mind. She had led enough men into battle to understand that casualties were inevitable, but it was hard not to blame herself for overestimating his abilities. For tempting fate.

For all Saber's self-recrimination, Rin had taken it even harder. The magus had blamed herself relentlessly, berated herself for indulging his need to save others despite the dangers. As she had told Saber weeks later, face streaked with tears and hand clamped on her second bottle of the night, bull-headed self-sacrifice was in his and Saber's nature. She had known better, had known she needed to put a stop to things. But saving people put that irrepressible smile on her boyfriend's face, made her girlfriend's shoulders straighten with renewed pride, and Rin had let herself be swept along. She had failed Saber and Shirou alike, and irrevocably broken her promise to Archer.

The magus would have fallen entirely to pieces if Saber had not been there to catch her. In turn, being strong for Rin had given Saber a purpose to fulfill even in the wake of another unspeakable failure. And although the former king was entirely too used to bearing up under grief in the name of duty, it had come as a vast relief to have someone to share that grief with this time. Someone whose shoulder she could cry against, without fear of showing weakness.

They had understood each other, clung to each other, needed each other. That connection had held fast and grown in the following years. Shirou's absence from their lives, from their bed, left a cold reminder of what they had lost. But there were still warm arms, loving embraces and devoted companionship. They easily forgave each other and, over time, they managed to forgive themselves as well.

For all Rin's prickly ways, Saber knew without a doubt that the magus loved her. It was for the sake of that love, and Shirou's memory, that Rin continued taking on these missions, threw herself into danger again and again in defense of others. Even if, in the girl's own words, it was all stupid and naïve idealism. Saber smiled fondly. Rin could complain all she wanted, but she always had a good heart, an honourable heart, whatever Tohsaka Tokiomi had tried to teach her. Saber was proud to have her as a master, a partner, a lover.

She tried the radio headset again. Still no response, but she told herself that she was not worried. Rin would not die on this mission, for Saber would not allow it. She was here ahead of schedule, ready to leap down and join her Master on the cursed train whenever it finally deigned to show itself. And if the mana flow that connected them suddenly felt weaker, well, that was to be expected, wasn't it? Rin was fighting a powerful enemy. It made sense that she would be using up a lot of mana. It didn't mean that she was (_dead_) struggling. Saber had to have faith.

She could finally see the train's pale headlights cutting through the night, the distant roar of its engine and the rumble of wheels furiously beating against steel tracks. She glared at it, as if she could force the dark bulk to approach faster through sheer force of will. Despite her impatience, it would still be a few minutes before it arrived -

The headset gave a sharp buzz, and she almost jumped in her surprise. Quickly she reached up to flick the button. "Rin?"

"Hey Saber? I got the bitch…" It was her lover's voice, but it sounded distressingly weak and oddly thick, as if she were speaking through a mouthful of liquid.

"Rin, what's wrong?" she said, struggling to keep calm, to ignore the hammering of her heart.

"The Dead aren't disappearing like they should. Some kind of enchantment. Wasn't expecting that." A wet cough. "… you can't let them off the train. I need you to destroy them all, okay? And... I'm sorry."

"Hold on, Rin!" She barked it like an order, like she would have done for one of her knights. "I'm almost there!"

The train was getting closer now, approaching at breakneck speed but still not fast enough for Saber. She ground her gauntleted fist in helpless rage.

There was a long moment of silence. Saber was about to yell again, to demand a response, when the magus spoke again. "Yeah, okay… I… I'll wait for you."

"Just hold on!"

Saber hurled herself over the far side railing as the locomotive passed under the bridge. Her hair and dress whipped wildly around her, buffeted by chilling wind, before she landed heavily on the rounded roof. She looked down the line of train cars rattling before her and cursed. Rin had to be in one of them, but something was interfering with her ability to pinpoint the magus despite the mana flow that connected them. There was little time for hesitation – the longer she stood on the roof, the more likely she might be knocked off by an untimely tunnel or overhead cables. Best to drop down into the train and start her search.

Ignoring the rattling of the train and the air pressure that threatened to blow her off, she plunged Excalibur through the roof. Reinforced metal parted open like tissue paper to her invisible blade as she carved an impromptu door. A sharp kick to dislodge the metal, and the way was open. Darkness below – the lights must have been out – but she did not hesitate to slip down into the train car.

Finely tuned battle instincts warned her before she even hit the ground. She leapt hard to her left as teeth snapped the air where she'd been standing only moments before. It was almost pitch black in the car, but the Servant could still make out her foe. Her gaze met corpse-pale skin and stiff limbs, empty red eyes, a mouth twisted in mindless aggression – all remembered from previous encounters with the Dead. But his face was oddly warped, the bones of his nose and jaw elongated in the suggestion of a canine snout.

She had scarcely registered this when a fierce growl pulled her eyes downward. _His arm_, she thought numbly as she recoiled in disgust. Instead of the taloned fingers she expected, there was a wolf's head emerging from the tattered sleeve. It was grotesque, disproportionately large to the shuddering body from which it grew, a horror from a fever dream. But still savage eyes bored into her, lips quivered in a snarl. She could see movement in the shadows behind it, glimpses of twisted forms with shaggy hides, glinting fangs and malformed ears and maws.

The snarl became a roar as the wolf's head lunged. It was deadly fast, even as it dragged its host body behind it, stiff feet stumbling. Still, its speed was no match for Saber's Instinct. She neatly sidestepped the charge, then swung down to behead the monstrous appendage at the elbow. She pressed forward into a follow through that cut the body entirely in half, twisted flesh giving way to invisible steel. There was very little blood spray, but the stench of spilled and rotting guts was more than enough to turn her stomach.

She barely had time to look up before the next Dead was upon her, murderous claws spread wide. She parried its attack and kicked it violently in the stomach. It stumbled backwards, giving her the opening she needed to bring her sword around to cut its head clean from its neck. Moments later, clawed hands grabbed at her from every direction, tearing at her dress, digging into her armor, burying her under the press of the vile bodies. The reek of decaying flesh and blood-matted fur threatened to clog her nostrils.

She desperately slashed at them, pushing them back with Invisible Air as she forced her way towards the back of the train. While the Dead were not individually a threat to a Servant of her calibre, their sheer number made it difficult to muscle her way through. She was reminded of Caster's dragontooth warriors; but while such familiars were a mere annoyance when she had her Master fighting with her side-by-side, it was entirely different when they were blocking her from her Master. A Master whose mana flow was getting weaker by the moment. The thought galvanized her fury, her desperation. She pressed forward with renewed strength, cutting her way through the horde, body by malformed body.

She forced her way down through the next car, fighting the whole way, until she abruptly reached a rough stone wall instead of the compartment door. She allowed herself a brief smile as she recognized Rin's spellwork. The wall was scored with numerous claw marks, but it had held fast. It was almost a shame to tear it down with a blast of wind pressure, but down it went. She pushed through, followed by the horde of Dead still howling for her blood.

"Almost there, almost there…!"

The floor on the other side was covered in glittering glass from broken windows that crunched underfoot as she hurried through, picking her way through dozens of fallen bodies. The air stunk of smoke and burnt corpse-flesh, made bearable only by rushing air. Scorch marks and puddles of melted water bore testament to the elemental fury that had happened here.

Saber rushed through to the other end, where a gilded door had been roughly kicked in. She found herself in a richly ornamented compartment. She quickly took in her surroundings - carved panels, polished floors, red velvet and silk, though much of it had been burnt or trodden underfoot. There were many holes in the walls and furnishings, so deep they could only have been caused by concentrated force – a telltale sign of _Gandr_.

Pulling aside a half-burned curtain, she took in the charred corpse laying at her feet. Despite the damage, she could make out hulking muscles and features that were downright lycanthropic – lupine head, singed wisps of fur, warped talons. Its savagery was in marked contrast to the remnants of its aristocratic attire, half-melted jewelry and bits of crimson silk. Lucrezia Lupa, most likely. Then where was her Master?

She spotted scuffed footprints in the ash. Footprints, and splashes of red.

"Rin? … Rin!"

She followed crimson droplets to the far corner, where a Dead corpse lay awkwardly sprawled, its talons covered in blood. Fresh blood. When she pulled it aside, she finally found her Master.

The woman was slumped over, black hair hanging like a disheveled curtain around her face and shoulders. Saber rushed forward to grab Rin by the shoulders, shaking her roughly in her panic.

"Rin, wake up!"

The body was limp and heavy. When she drew her hands away, she found them covered in blood. She looked down to hideous wounds where talons had deeply rent her love's back.

Saber's hands instinctively reached towards her belt, to draw forth Avalon and draw upon the sheath's healing powers. The body still held a hint of warmth, almost enough to make her hope she had not arrived too late. But when she tilted Rin's chin up, begging to see something in those aquamarine eyes, she found them glazed over in death.

Whatever miracles Avalon could bring forth, it could not bring back the dead. Saber knew through bitter experience.

She felt hot tears flow down her cheeks as she lightly passed her fingers to close Rin's eyelids, as she had done for Shirou. And just like the young man, when she bent down to press one last kiss against cold lips, she tasted blood.

Saber wanted to break down and sob, pour out the flood of grief that threatened to fill her up and overwhelm her. But she didn't have that even that dubious luxury. The shuffling and creaking of wooden floors behind her made it clear that the remaining Dead had caught up with her. She rose to her feet, unsteadily at first, then with renewed determination as she faced the oncoming horde.

She could still feel mana in her reserves, enough to last a few hours. Britain was a land of magi, even in these modern times. In her remaining time, she might be able to find a new master to anchor her to this world.

Saber dismissed the thought immediately. It was not only her duty, but her will, to follow through on the path of her Master – no, both her Masters.

Saber held her sword aloft as the Dead surged forward, fangs bared and eyes gleaming with unnatural hunger. The blade glowed a shining gold and air swirled around it, lifting up small bits of ash with it, as the Servant gathered all her remaining power. Radiant force built up, the light intensifying until it was so bright it could blind the angels. She raised it overhead and yelled its sacred name.

"EXCALIBUR!"

An overwhelming wave of light burst forth from the sword to engulf everything before her. Enemies, furnishings, the very walls and floor of the train, all dissolved in the face of that fearsome radiance.

Saber took in the sight of the obliteration with a sense of fierce satisfaction, even as she felt her body begin to fade. Her head was spinning, her vision blurred, as her consciousness began to slip away. From the frigid fog settling over her, she was being pulled somewhere far colder than the Blessed Isle. The Throne of Heroes, then.

It was an abominable place to her now. Once it had promised her a chance to win the Grail, to save her country and redeem herself from her mistakes. Now with the Grail first corrupted, then dismantled entirely, the Throne was just a prison. One that was worse for her than the other spirits it housed, because at least they had only a single lifetime to look back on. Saber had several incarnations now to haunt her, each filled with failure and regret.

As she felt her mind fall into the Throne's cold grasp, she hoped that she would never be called back from it.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Gift fic for the fabulous Gladiara Alata. I'm sorry it took so long to post, but I've come to accept that it's pretty much par for the course for me, sigh.

For those concerned about lore, Saber is wrong here. She's definitely going to Avalon, even if the start of her journey is plunged in an unexpected cold. Unfortunately the same can't be said for her copy, newly inducted as a Heroic Spirit in the Throne of Heroes. Hurrah for the Nasuverse's unrelenting cruelty.


	2. Chapter 2

Concept became flesh. Essence twisted to form muscles and sinews. Mana coalesced to form the blood pumping through veins.

Saber felt her stomach turn as the weight of materialization settled upon her. She had been summoned enough times now to cope with the sudden heaviness of a physical form, and the flood of knowledge from the Throne. But that didn't stop the soul-deep weariness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Enough. She was Artoria, King of Knights. She had a duty to uphold, however much despair gnawed at her. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes as she automatically began reciting the Servant's mantra.

"I ask of you, are you my Master - !"

Her cool tone turned into something shamefully approaching a squeak when she saw the person standing in front of her summoning circle. Sherry brown eyes gazed back at her, framed by matching hair and a smile that radiated nervous excitement.

_Shirou? It can't be! _

But the name still danced on the tip of her tongue, threatened to spill out before she managed to choke it back. Just as well, as a second look at her summoner made it clear that this wasn't her lost love. Her facial features were unmistakably feminine, enhanced by thick hair that fell to her shoulders. Her girlish figure was clad in a white and black uniform that looked vaguely militaristic in style. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. A relative, perhaps –

"My King!" called a voice from behind the summoner, and suddenly a young woman had rushed forward to kneel before a bewildered Saber. The former king took in short lavender hair, abbreviated black armor and a truly massive cross-shaped shield, and could honestly say she was none the wiser. Still, there was something oddly familiar about the reverent bent of her head.

"I do not believe we have met. Who might you be?" said Saber.

The woman grimaced as she looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment. "Ah, I'm sorry. The thought jumped out at me before I could…" She stood up awkwardly. "I'm, ah, Mash Kyrielight. I serve as the host for one of your former knights. Sir Galahad."

"Galahad?" Saber frowned. The woman did share a certain nobility of bearing with the young knight she remembered, not to mention a similar hairstyle. "You are his host? I do not understand. Does he speak through you?"

"Ah, no…"

"Mash is a demi-servant," interrupted her summoner, her gaze turning towards her companion. "Dr. Roman says that Galahad is sleeping inside her. He lends her his strength and keeps her alive. We're very grateful." The girl coughed, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she looked up and gave Saber a brilliant smile, so reminiscent of the one she sometimes glimpsed in her dreams that it made her heart ache. "You must be Artoria Pendragon. I'm your Master, Fujimaru Ritsuka."

"… any relation to Emiya…?" whispered Saber before she could stop herself.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing, forgive me." Saber felt rather overwhelmed at the moment, but she had long practice in controlling her countenance. She drew herself up. "Then I shall be your sword, Master. I am yours to command."

"Thank you," said Ritsuka with a smile. "Welcome to Chaldea, humanity's last hope. Ah, we should give you the tour. Introduce you to the staff and your fellow Servants…"

Saber stepped out of the circle and followed along. As she let Ritsuka's explanations wash over her, she reflected that it was fitting that she would be summoned to fight in humanity's last stand. Was she not, after all, the champion of doomed causes?

* * *

Saber tried to untangle the complicated knot of emotions that gathered in the pit of her belly as her Master led her through the halls of Chaldea. On the one hand, she was honoured to meet many of her fellow Servants. Great warriors of legend, the tales of which she had heard as a youth sitting with Sir Ector by the fire. She couldn't deny a certain thrill at the idea of crossing blades with Fionn mac Cumlainn, or Achilles of the Trojan War.

But even in the midst of heroes, surrounded by those that would be her new comrades, she couldn't help feeling lonely. They knew her as King Arthur of Britain, and she found herself naturally slipping back into that role – proud, aloof, chained to her duties. It had taken years of living with Shirou and Rin to coax Saber out her wintry shell into spring. To free her to openly express her cheer and humour, her selfish wishes, her doubts and insecurities. Even then, she had often struggled with conveying her softer emotions, those that she had long viewed as incompatible with kingship. Without her loves by her side, opening her bruised heart to others seemed an impossible task, as daunting as any distant peak. And that was assuming she wanted to. Even if she found someone she could call a friend, she wasn't sure she could bear it when she inevitably failed them. Like she had failed everyone else she cared for.

She was so lost in memories of the past that she almost missed the soft fall of raven-black hair in the distance. And when it did register, she thought it must be a dream, a phantasm conjured by her yearning heart. But no matter how many times she blinked, the familiar figure remained. Waves of black tresses, slender but toned muscles, curves that Saber had spent countless nights mapping out with eager hands. And if the rather revealing outfit seemed an uncharacteristically bold choice for her lover, it at least had the virtue of making her identity unmistakeable.

"RIN!"

Saber bolted forward, startling her Master in mid-sentence. She ran heedlessly, recklessly, feeling as though her heart might burst from joy and relief. By some miracle, some mercy of God, Rin was here as well. Somebody she knew and loved in this strange place.

She kept her eyes glued to the woman's back as she ran, already imagining how Rin would greet her. Perhaps a lecture for running like an idiot, or even a punch to the shoulder, before she would smile. That brief but brilliant smile that always betrayed the proud magus' affection and happiness at seeing her. That smile Saber had honestly thought she would never see again.

Then the woman turned around, and Saber came to a violent stop before her. Without doubt, that was Rin's face, the pale skin and elegant nose and brows that she remembered. But the eyes were a cold red. The colour of blood from a deep wound. A stranger's eyes, on her love's face.

As Saber stared in shock, the woman looked down on her imperiously for a moment.

"Oh, what have we here?" She carelessly slipped a finger under the former king's chin to tilt it up, and in her daze Saber allowed her to do so. Those red eyes swept over her features as her face was moved this way and that, the same way one might assess a prize horse. Then the stranger's lips curled up in an approving smile. "Very pretty."

Saber's senses finally returned to her as she recoiled. She drew her sword as her foot fell back into a defensive posture. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The stranger looked amused, with a glint of something hard – like steel, like cruelty – in her eyes. "Mortal, you think to challenge a goddess? Shall I punish you for your impudence?"

She laughed as she lightly waved a hand. There was a flash of blue and gold as a great bow manifested behind her, hovering in the air as if in the grip of some unseen giant.

Saber gripped her blade, considering the best angle for a strike, when suddenly something shoved itself in front of her. She blinked as she recognized Mash's immense shield, placed directly between herself and the ethereal bow. "Stop, both of you! Senpai doesn't want any fighting!"

"What's going on?" Ritsuka hurried over, her brow creased in concern. "If this is a duel, it doesn't look very friendly."

"Nothing important. Some simply lack the manners to appreciate elegance and grace," smirked the stranger. She nodded to Ritsuka as the bow behind her vanished, then turned to Saber. "Still, your courage is first-rate. Keep that up, and you may yet have the honour of seeing my full glory."

Saber opened her mouth to deliver a rejoinder when the woman lightly tossed her hair over one shoulder. The motion was so characteristically Rin that the knight couldn't help but stare as another ache welled up in her heart.

The stranger looked a little surprised at her sudden silence, pausing to consider her with renewed interest. Then she had the insolence to wink – _wink! – _before she turned and walked away. Saber caught herself watching the sway of her hips, the soft flutter of her hair as she vanished down the hallway, and hated herself a little bit for it.

Ritsuka shook her head as she came up to Saber's side. "Sorry about that. Ishtar takes some getting used to." She frowned as she took in Saber's expression. "Is everything okay?"

"Do not worry yourself, Master," muttered Saber. But inwardly she winced. No, nothing was okay. And she wasn't sure if it ever would be.

* * *

Two days later, Saber managed to catch Ishtar in one of the less populated hallways. Or perhaps Ishtar had arranged to be caught, judging from the rather smug smile that spread across her face as the knight approached.

Saber glared at her. "I do not know what glamour you are using, but I would request that you stop taking my love's guise. I find it offensive."

Ishtar frowned in confusion, before her eyes widened as some realization seemed to set in. The frown was instantly replaced by a wicked grin. "Ah, but I am not using a glamour. Nor any other illusion. This is the natural appearance of my host body."

"Host-?" Saber's mind reeled as she tried to process this. So Ishtar was a demi-servant then, like Mash. A Heroic Spirit riding in a human's body. But unlike the Shielder, it was quite clear that the possessing spirit was in control here.

She shook her head. That was absurd. Rin was too proud to ever cede control to anyone, especially over her much-vaunted mind. Even to a supposed goddess.

_But that's not entirely true, is it? You've seen her do all kinds of things she swore she never would, for the sake of her loved ones. What more might she do with the whole of humanity at stake?_

She was abruptly dragged from her thoughts by the gentle touch of fingers along her jaw. They were soft and warm after the cold darkness of the Throne, and she was so starved for touch. She found herself leaning into them, craving more.

Ishtar took the opportunity to move her hands upwards along her cheeks, pressing the flat of her palms against skin, until she was cradling the knight's face. It felt good to be held like that, by fingers that she had once known and trusted implicitly. The familiar scent of jasmine was so soothing that she could almost ignore the foreign fragrance of pomegranate blossoms underneath.

Saber's breath hitched as something hot unfurled in her stomach.

"If this is the one you love, do you want to touch her?" the goddess purred. "Touch her, touch me. Feel the glory of Venus. Come, worship at my altar."

She leaned forward, her breath hot against Saber's cheek, sliding her hands to rest upon the nape of the knight's neck. Long black hair cascaded down to brush against armored shoulders, bringing with it the memory of how those silky strands felt against bare skin. Saber drew a long, trembling breath as she was swept along by sensation.

Ishtar smirked before pulling closer, even as she lowered her lips to press light kisses upwards along the knight's throat. Then a hot tongue danced around the shell of Saber's ear, a graze of teeth along the delicate skin, and it felt so good and it would be so _easy _to yield, to let this continue –

Saber shuddered violently as she forcibly pulled herself away from temptation, clumsily disentangling herself from the other's embrace. This was not Rin, not really, no matter how lovely the facsimile. She could not desecrate their bond like this.

Self-loathing bubbled up inside her, turning into anger as it hit the surface. She gave Ishtar her blackest look. "Chaldea and common cause or not," she said coldly, "do that again and you _will _feel my sword."

She clenched her fist as she walked away. It felt too much like retreat, but she didn't know what she might do if she stayed any longer. She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

Ishtar only laughed. "Loneliness will yet change your mind," she called at Saber's retreating back. "Even the proudest king falls before my mysteries."

* * *

"How nice to have a fellow Servant interested in my lessons for once! An eager student is such a rare treat, even for a genius like myself."

"I am grateful for your enthusiasm, Lady Da Vinci."

"Heh heh, such a charmer! Well then. To answer your question, the Throne embodies and crystallizes Heroic Spirits based upon the ideals that their deeds and legends have birthed in humanity's collective soul. It grants strength to those that existed in flesh, and form to those that existed in legend. Well, since we're dealing with humanity, it's natural that some things get a bit distorted."

"Distorted?" asked Saber with a frown.

"Oh yes, that's why a Heroic Spirit can manifest in many ways when it's called down as a Servant. Not just their abilities, their personalities and attributes can change quite a bit. Look at Cú Chulainn, for example."

"If I must," sighed Saber. She still had mixed feelings about the Irish hero, especially his Lancer incarnation. She was simultaneously angry over his attempt on Shirou's life during the War, and grateful for his later efforts on her Masters' behalf. The man was an infuriating contradiction.

Da Vinci laughed. "Given your fame as King of Britain, you may well meet another version of yourself. Perhaps even several."

"Please, no," groaned Saber. The idea of meeting another Artoria, one with different goals and ideals, was a disconcerting thought. She had already had the experience of Mordred.

She swallowed hard before jumping tracks from one difficult train of thought to another. "And what about… what about demi-servants? Servants that employ human hosts?"

"Ah, our dear Mash is a special case. What you describe is generally known as a pseudo-servant." Da Vinci leaned back in her chair. "Some Heroic Spirits and Divine Spirits have trouble manifesting independently as Servants, so they get summoned using a human body as their vessel. The resulting Servant has traits of both the spirit and the human. Some are more pronounced than others though. You've met El-Melloi, yes?"

"Indeed." It was an odd experience, meeting a version of Waver Velvet in Chaldea. Encountering an old acquaintance, even if they had never strictly been friends, should have come as a relief to Saber. Instead, he unwittingly carried pain with him, as his presence could not help but remind her of two other once-residents of the Clocktower.

"El-Melloi technically serves as host for Zhuge Liang, but he pretty much runs the show. It takes about five minutes watching him suck on that abominable cigarette of his to see it. At the other extreme, you have –"

"Ishtar," whispered Saber.

"Yep! That spirit has so much ego, there's no room left for anyone else. Though sometimes I wonder, haha."

"And their hosts… where do their hosts come from?"

"Generally from other world lines. Places and times where humanity hasn't yet suffered such a crushing defeat, and a suitable host could still be found among the living."

"Among the living," said Saber softly. She felt the crush of despair as the meaning sunk in. Even if she could somehow loosen Ishtar's grip on her host, it would still not be Saber's Rin. She would not have any memory of what they had shared together. She could expect nothing more than a cautious friendship at best, and perhaps even enmity at worst, depending on how the War had unravelled in her world.

She was alone in Chaldea, surrounded by walking reminders of loved ones she would never see again.


	3. Chapter 3

Saber could not really avoid the girl who bore Shirou's likeness – Ritsuka was her Master, after all – but over time, the resemblance hurt less.

Watching the young magus in action let her see past the shared colour of hair and eyes, the affable grins and friendly mannerisms, to realize all the ways in which the two differed. While Ritsuka was just as inclined towards bravery, she was willing to let her Servants lead the charge in battle. Shirou's insistence on always leading from the front had been as exasperating as it had been endearing to Saber, and she couldn't say that this was an unwelcome change.

She was also grateful that Ritsuka seemed to lack the unhealthy obsession with heroism that had once gripped Shirou, the willingness to flay himself alive if he thought it would be of service to someone. It had taken Rin and herself years of admonishments, and more tears of anger and relief than she cared to remember, before he finally began to temper his recklessness. Perhaps the difference was that Shirou had spent much of his formative years alone with his dreams of justice, while Ritsuka could always rely on Mash. Ever-faithful Mash, so devoted to her young charge that even Ritsuka could not miss how much her death would hurt the Shielder.

So yes, Saber could make peace with the person who recalled one of her lost loves. Unfortunately, she could not possibly say the same about the other. To Saber's aggravated despair, while Ritsuka had begun as a reminder of Shirou then increasingly become her own person, the opposite was happening with Ishtar. With every graceful movement of that slim body, every sly grin and peal of merry laughter, it became easier for Saber to think of her as Rin.

Even from a distance, Saber could see how the goddess was slowly mellowing. Arrogant dismissal was giving way to friendly competition with her fellow Servants, while cutting remarks became light-hearted teasing. She had even openly declared her affection for Ritsuka the other day, before hastily covering it up with bluster about how honoured any mortal should be to receive a goddess' favour.

Saber could spurn Ishtar so long as she could keep spirit and host distinct in her mind. That was an easy task when Ishtar acted the imperious mistress, callous and aloof. It was much harder to keep her distance from an Ishtar that was little by little coming to resemble the woman Saber loved. And as the days passed, a treacherous part of Saber no longer wanted to.

Why insist on differentiating them, when it left her lonely and aching?

_Why not let yourself pretend, just for a moment? Just a kiss. Surely one kiss wouldn't hurt, and it's been so long – _

Then Saber would grimace as her mental walls came back up. She had very strong walls, built through years of discipline and self-denial. She was sure they would hold fast, even against this unbearable temptation.

Then tragedy almost struck, and her walls came crumbling down.

* * *

"_Really, I'm okay," said Ritsuka through gritted teeth, even as she leaned heavily against Saber. "Avalon's already helping and Tama… ugh!... Tamamo will be able to sort me out." _

_The broken leg was straightening itself out, the bleeding gash on the girl's shoulder mending as flesh slowly knitted itself back together. Still, the torn white of her uniform and her myriad remaining wounds were stark evidence of how close things had come to not being okay at all. Even now, the deep slashes on her back wept blood on Saber's hands. _

_The knight bent her head in shame as she remembered how the wyvern had managed to slip past her guard. True, the sudden onslaught of beasts had nearly buried them, but that was little excuse for failing her charge. It was only thanks to Mash's shield and keen reflexes that they still had a Master at all. Blocked from a deadly strike, the winged menace had still managed to sink its talons deep into the magus' back, and ripped open the length of her arm, before Mash knocked it violently aside._

The other Servants had not seemed too perturbed, accepting that some close calls were inevitable given the dangers lurking in every Singularity. But even after they had returned safely to Chaldea, Saber had been unable to banish the image of blood oozing from deep claw marks. It forcibly reminded her of another set of wounds long ago, in the darkness of a ruined train car. She could almost smell the blood and fire, taste the ash on her tongue.

The memory of that terrible moment, of gathering up Rin's corpse in her arms, haunted her when she closed her eyes. Sleep eluded her when she tried to sleep that night, no matter how she tossed and turned.

_No_, she told herself, _I won't let it happen here_. Ritsuka was still safe, breathing peacefully in sleep at the end of the hall. And so did this world's Rin, her body healthy and whole, even if she had to share it with a capricious goddess. Her skin unblemished and warm to the touch, her lovely chest rising and falling steadily with each breath.

It was a pleasing vision, much better than the gruesome images that had recently plagued her rest, and Saber found herself lingering over it. Thinking further, to how that slender shoulder had once felt under her fingertips. How it had felt when their bodies were delightfully entangled, still sweaty from the act of love.

Thinking about it was wrong, she knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. Her hands remembered how it had felt to trace down the lines of that body, teasing out each weak spot and feeling her beloved shudder beneath her. Her skin remembered the brush of those fingers, those lips, that hot tongue. Her body was all too keen to remind her of what she couldn't have.

But she _could_ have it, if she reached out and took it. Or at least she could have the facsimile. And right now, with her body aching and her heart twisted in longing, she would gladly settle for the facsimile.

She was barely aware of slipping out of bed. She stepped out into the hallway, clad only in the silk nightshirt she had come to favour during her years in London. Duty and honour screamed at her, demanded she control herself, but she paid them no heed. It felt like her body was on fire, a sickness raging in her brain, as she (_stalked)_ strode along the corridors of the Servants' quarters. Towards the room that she knew held what she craved.

She paused in front of the door, imagining the familiar scent of jasmine that would greet her on the other side. The cloying sweetness of pomegranate too, but she tucked that thought firmly away. Without further hesitation, she shouldered the door open and walked in.

Ishtar was lounging on her bed, one hand holding an open book while the other reached for a grape from the golden bowl at her side. She blinked at Saber in surprise, slowly sitting up as she looked over her unexpected guest. Then she smiled and languorously stretched herself out along her side, in a pose designed to show off every curve to best advantage. Black hair spilled enticingly across silken sheets. Her crimson gaze, locked with Saber's, held both a challenge and an invitation.

Saber stared at her, eating her with her eyes, devouring every inch of toned muscle and creamy skin that looked so much like Rin's. That _was _Rin's, in a manner of speaking, so it was okay to do this, right?

She rushed forward to grab Ishtar's shoulders, pushing her back and pinning her on the bed. Saber's body moved without waiting for her brain's consent, eagerly climbing atop the woman to straddle her. Ishtar smiled and delicately licked her lips in an unspoken request that the knight was only too happy to fulfill. Their mouths crashed together in a ferocious kiss, their tongues dueling fiercely as each tried to claim the upper hand, and _oh_, Saber had missed this.

Eventually they had to part for breath, a small line of saliva still connecting their trembling lips. Ishtar purred approvingly as she looked at Saber through half-lidded eyes. Red eyes, but with desire coursing through her every vein, Saber could easily see them as aquamarine.

She settled her hands atop _(Rin's) _Ishtar's body, sliding them up her stomach only to encounter meddlesome cloth. The abbreviated white-and-gold top didn't cover much, but it was still too much for Saber. It was in the way of what she remembered and desperately wanted. She slid her hands under it, eliciting little gasps of pleasure as her fingers brushed sensitive flesh, before reaching around to (_Rin_'s) Ishtar's back. She fumbled with the clasp, her hands made awkward by need, before pulling off the offending garment. Saber's eyes widened as she took in the sight of her lover's bared breasts, small but perfectly formed, dusky-rose nipples already hard. Exactly as she remembered them.

Saber felt like liquid fire had been poured into her veins and straight to her core as she eagerly tugged away at (_Ishtar's_) Rin's remaining clothing. The magus usually liked to make a show of removing her attire, teasing Saber with each item, but the knight had no patience for that tonight. Golden jewelry was impatiently pulled aside, until she could sweep her eyes along her lover's gloriously nude form without interruption, from her flushed face to the tips of her elegant toes. That was much, much better, and Saber indulged herself by whispering her lips down the revealed skin. It was warm, and tasted lightly of salt and sun. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the sensations wash over her.

"Did I not tell you?" laughed her lover, "None can resist the glory of V-"

Saber captured her lips in a rough kiss to shut her up. She expected some teasing from Rin, but something about it rankled at her tonight. It sounded wrong, a harsh grating against the song of desire, and she wanted to drown it out.

Fortunately Rin did not seem to mind. She moaned in pleasure against Saber's mouth, letting their tongues entangle for a glorious moment before pulling away. Saber growled and moved to chase, when Rin lightly pressed a finger against her lips to still her.

"Ara, so eager aren't we? But I'm feeling rather greedy myself."

She reached down and grasped the hem of Saber's nightshirt. Saber nodded in understanding and raised her arms, allowing her lover to pull it over her head and away. Once she had been embarrassed about displaying her nudity, when Shirou's shocked gaze had reminded her that she was a woman and not merely a weapon. But the obvious appreciation on Rin's face as she gazed down the length of her body, eyes darkening with lust, helped to put her at ease.

Saber let her memories guide her as she let her hands and mouth roam along Rin's body. She brushed against all of her love's favourite spots – curling her tongue around each sensitive nipple, down to the dip of her navel, while her fingers lightly stroked and teased the skin of her inner thigh - savouring the little gasps and purrs as the woman came undone beneath her. For a moment Saber forgot herself entirely and she was back in their bed in London, chasing the day's troubles away with each other.

Her breath hitched when she felt slender arms move to wrap around her shoulders. Lips and teeth over the most sensitive part of her ear, a weakness of hers that Rin always liked to target. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, feeding the heat building in her core. Heat that begged for satisfaction.

Saber shifted down capture Rin's thigh between her own, rubbing her slit against smooth skin. She began rocking her hips, seeking that delicious friction. Slowly at first, but with increasing vigour as pleasure washed over her. Rin reached for her hand, gently guided it against dark curls that were already wet with arousal.

"Beautiful," murmured Saber as she obligingly slid her a finger into slick wet flesh, the digit sliding in effortlessly to rub and stroke. Then another finger, thrusting at a pace to match the wanton movement of Saber's own hips. She was rewarded with a chain of gasps as Rin's back arced off the bed, her hips bucking hard to capture as much of Saber's hand as possible.

Saber looked down at her lover moaning shamelessly beneath her, sweat glinting off her flushed skin. The erotic sight fueled the pleasure rising from her core to course throughout her body. Too much, too much, and soon she was crying out, spots dancing in her vision as she was pushed over the edge. She mindlessly ground herself down to ride out the pleasant little aftershocks, her fluids spreading hot and sticky over Rin's thigh.

She did not have to wait long for her partner to join her. Even in her bliss, she felt Rin's inner walls clench around her fingers, felt the tremors of the woman's muscles under her touch, and heard the soft sigh of contentment as she reached her own climax.

They collapsed back onto the bed, Saber still atop of Rin, their legs still entangled and sticky with their shared essences. Saber let herself bask in the shared warmth of the afterglow, as heavy pants gave way to soft breathing and their heartbeats slowed. She planted a tender kiss between Rin's breasts before raising her head to smile at her beloved.

"Thank you, Rin. That was wonderful, you're wonder-"

Her voice died away when she looked up into red eyes, red as slaughter. A proud smirk, on lips still swollen from their kisses. The sight ripped Saber out of her daydream into cold reality.

She didn't make love to Rin at all, but to Ishtar.

Horrible nausea roiled up in Saber's gut, and it was all she could do not to gag. She had let herself... no, worse than that, she had willed herself into this, purposely turned a blind eye. So she could relive the past, the past she had lost due to her failures. The past she had just so terribly dishonoured by giving in to her lust.

Hands reached up for her, towards her face. Saber jerked back, almost tripping over the sheets in her rush to put distance between them. Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched Ishtar lean forward into a sitting position, watching the knight with a questioning eye. Saber looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"I..." she stumbled out, "I apologize. This was a mistake." Her heart clenched as her gaze strayed over tangled sheets, then down to the floor across the discarded book, the overturned bowl with its scattered fruit. She drew a long breath. "This won't happen again."

"Oh, but I want it to."

Saber flinched, then frowned. "You are not my beloved. I will not lapse again."

Ishtar's laughter was a bowstring sawing across Saber's drawn nerves. "You say that, but it won't last. I see the hunger in your eyes even now. The longing in your arms."

"No, I..."

"You can always pretend with me," purred Ishtar. "Come back anytime you desire, pretty one. I will grant you love's oblivion in my arms, as many times as you wish it."

"Never again," said Saber as she grabbed at her nightshirt, yanked it over and down with unnecessary savagery. Not that the thin cloth formed much of a barrier to the goddess' wandering gaze. Nor did it wipe away the fluids drying between her legs, the mark of her recent sin. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and that feeling only compounded the shame burning in her cheeks.

She turned on her heels without another word, back into the darkness of the hallway. She could only hope that she would make it back to her room without seeing anyone. Without showing anyone what a depraved beast the King of Britain could be.

She couldn't help but think back to another cursed night, long ago. When she, head befuddled with enchantments and her own base lust, had sinned by joining with her own half-sister. The horror that clawed at her when she awoke to find Morgan leering down at her, lovely but cruel lips set in a smile that promised malice. That malice that had taken form as Mordred, and calamity, and finally her agonizing death at Camlann. It had been a punishment from Heaven for all her sin and weakness and failure. And now, she could only dread what sanction she would receive for her latest transgression.

"Never again," she repeated to herself, and wanted to mean it. But already she felt cold and small, lost in the vast corridors of Chaldea. Already her treacherous mind lingered on the ghosts of soft lips and nimble fingers, the warmth of shared breath. She had the horrible sense that she would give in again.

Even if she remained steadfast, it wouldn't take away her failure. She had failed, fallen, yet again. What could she possibly say to Shirou and Rin when she saw them again? Her loves whose memories she had tainted, whose honour she had besmirched with her selfish lust?

Despite being a copy created by the Throne of Heroes, Saber knew that her imprisonment would not last forever. Someday she would travel to Avalon, and find both her loves there. But the promise of that utopia had never felt more distant, nor more hollow.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Sorry, Guest-kun Reiter! But an Emiya might stop Saber from making terrible decisions, and then where would we be?

On a more serious note, there are so many Servants in FGO that either look like Saber, or have a history with Saber, that I decided to simplify my life by assuming most of them have yet to be summoned. It's certainly food for thought in the event that I (further) lose my mind and write beyond my planned chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite her resolution, Saber found herself slipping into a terrible pattern with the pseudo-servant that had become both her temptation and her torment. She would manage to keep away for some time, chaining herself to her duties to keep her mind from distraction. Then a sudden burst of grief, or simmering anger, or just the slow but steady wear of heartache would drive her back to Ishtar's bed, where she could pretend for a little while before shame and guilt caught up with her.

Each time the goddess would greet her with the same sultry gaze and pleased smirk. And each time dug the thorn a little deeper, a little sharper, into Saber's soul. Each time she swore would be the last, only to find herself once again walking down the corridors towards the goddess' chambers.

That last part had been the consistent thread in all of their encounters. Ishtar had always waited, with aggravating smugness, for Saber to come seek her out.

Which was why Saber was taken aback when she returned from a hard-fought battle, shoulders heavy and steel still ringing in her ears, to find Ishtar waiting in the knight's own quarters.

The goddess sat on the edge of Saber's bed, lightly swinging her legs as she hummed to herself. She looked up as the knight walked in, then gave her a disapproving look as she swept her hand to encompass the room.

"Everything's so plain and dull in here! Like a drudge's room. Surely a king can afford a splash of colour?"

"Please leave. Now."

"Now don't be so hasty. I'm here to make you an offer," said Ishtar, with a glint in her eye that promised nothing good.

"I am not interested in new decor, or anything else you may have." Saber rubbed at her temples. She was too tired right now to deal with this. "We've... we've already taken too much from each other. And I cannot abide the thought of adding more. So please, leave."

Ishtar instead gave her an infuriating smile as she placed an elegant finger under her chin, as if in thought. "I _have _graced you with my presence quite often of late. Enough to make you the envy of mortals everywhere. And yet, all these times that we've joined -"

Saber winced, and Ishtar's smile grew a little wider.

"- all these times you've been gifted with my glory, and still you only think of her. Perhaps I should be insulted, but then, it only confirms my excellent taste in choosing vessels." She ran her hands appreciatively along her hips, her fingers lingering as if on fine silk.

The knight found herself imagining how much better those hips would look framed in a black skirt, which rather proved the point. She sighed and forced herself to meet the other's gaze. "I apologize for using you in such a manner. I will entirely understand if you -"

"Would you like to see her?"

" - do not wish to further... what?" Saber blinked.

"We share this body, after all. I might be persuaded to hand over the reins, for a little while."

Saber felt something bloom inside of her. Hope. Small and fragile, but infinitely precious after nights spent in self-recrimination and regret. "I... I would be very grateful. I'm sure Rin would also -"

"_If_," Ishtar interrupted, "you get down on your knees and beg for it."

Saber snapped her mouth shut. She drew herself up, letting her outrage flash in her glare. "I won't. I may be weak, unworthy of my title, but I am still King of Britain. My pride also stands for my people's. I won't debase it further."

Ishtar raised an eyebrow. "I see, so you value your pride over love. Duty over happiness. Now I see why your people said their king did not understand human feelings."

"You-!"

"Stop and think a moment. Your people are long gone, your duties to them long since fulfilled. Yet still you cling to pride in their name, that same pride they never thanked you for."

Ishtar rose from the bed to stand before her, with all the poise of an empress. "Besides, there is no shame in worshipping a goddess. It is only natural; no one would think any less of you for it. So I will offer once again. Kneel before me, and I will let you see your beloved. "

The goddess leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching. Saber could feel her warm breath tickle her cheeks, take in the scent of flowers. The knight's head swam as she tried to untangle the tempest of emotions and desires surging through her.

She had to hold on to her pride, tattered as it might be. Had she not brought enough shame upon herself already? And even if she gave in, would Ishtar actually let her see Rin, or just laugh in her face? As much as her comportment had improved over her time in Chaldea, the spirit was well known for her capricious nature. This could very well be the first in a series of humiliating tasks, the promise of her loved one the carrot dangled before Saber to make her dance to the spirit's tune.

_But what if Ishtar means it, and I can really see Rin again_? She was so damn lonely. Settling into Chaldea, her Master's best efforts, even this perverse arrangement with Ishtar had not been able to fill the ache in her heart. Even if it would not be her Rin, it would still be a friend. And god, Saber wanted to see her.

She opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she intended to say, when Ishtar suddenly held up a hand to stop her.

"Nevermind," said the goddess, "I've just received an even more pleasing supplication." She giggled as she backed away from a stunned Saber, eyes flashing with mirth. "How very lucky you are, to have someone love you so much. As the mistress of love, even I can't help but be moved a little. Very well, then."

Saber looked on in confusion as the woman relaxed her stance, and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, they were a brilliant aquamarine. The knight held her breath as those eyes fixed on hers in wonder, and the woman (_Rin?) _tentatively reached a hand towards her.

Saber grabbed the woman's hands on instinct, bringing them up to her lips to press kisses on them. She stopped halfway up, hesitating. "Please, say this isn't a trick. I don't think I could bear it."

The woman gave a snort, albeit one that sounded a bit shaky. "She hardly needs tricks. She holds all the cards here, damn her."

"I... is that really you, Rin? Then the supplication - "

"Forget about that! I wasn't just going to stand there and let her have her way, that's all." Rin crossed her arms and looked determinedly away. "A...Anyway, you were already so miserable, so... "

In other words, Rin had begged Ishtar so that Saber wouldn't have to. Saber felt something constrict her chest, a tangled ball of guilt and gratitude and love. She could sort it out later; right now she just wanted to be here, in this moment.

This time, she did not hesitate as she swept Rin up into a fierce embrace, burying her face in the familiar space between her neck and shoulder. She was hugging the other girl hard enough that it must have hurt, but Rin made no protest, only bringing up a hand to gently stroke Saber's hair.

They stayed like that for a long while, holding each other. Saber breathed in the scent of jasmine untainted by foreign fruit, heard the steady pulse of blood running through her love's throat. She revelled in the feel of deft fingers carding through her hair, smoothing out her _ahoge _even though they both knew the futility of that gesture.

Eventually Rin gently loosened Saber's grip on her shoulders, moved back just far enough so they could look at each other.

"It's been too long, Saber." Rin smiled softly at her, not even bothering to hide the small pinpricks of tears forming in those blue-green eyes. That was fair enough, Saber knew she wasn't far from tears herself.

She reached out to hold Rin's face, to draw her in for a kiss, when she remembered that this was not her Rin. It would not be fair to burden her with those feelings, regardless of what their bodies had done with Ishtar in control.

She coughed awkwardly. "Rin, I know you wouldn't remember, but -"

"London?" interrupted Rin. "Shirou sacrificing himself like the brave idiot he always was? That damn vampire on the train?"

Saber gaped at her in open astonishment.

"I hate to admit it, but that useless goddess does have some powers when it comes to love and feelings. Enough to pick up things from your mind, if you leave yourself open to her. And with all the times in the past few days we've done... well, _that_."

A furious blush spread over her cheeks as she wrung her hands. If Saber had any doubts that she was talking to Rin, that dispelled them. She could not imagine Ishtar ever looking that embarrassed, especially in relation to sex.

"Then you saw...?"asked Saber.

"Enough to understand."

Enough, Saber realized as she saw the unspoken words in Rin's eyes, for it to hurt. "I am sorry. That was my pain to bear, and I should not have imposed it on -"

"Damn it, why must you and that idiot always be so unbearably noble and – argh, just come here." The raven-haired woman pulled Saber by the arm, towards the bed. "I can't take it away, but at least I can share it with you. And don't you dare argue."

She pushed the knight down onto the coverlet, then climbed in next to her. Saber made no protest, only wrapping her arms around Rin's shoulders to pull her in closer. And somehow it did help. The heat of their shared embrace, the gentle cadence of the other's breathing... it didn't erase all the harrowing memories, or the shame of her recent sins, but it did ease them.

Saber relaxed her head against the pillow, pulling Rin along so she could keep staring into blue-green eyes. Duty would eventually call, of course, but for now she just wanted to enjoy this, enjoy holding and being held in return. It was warm and sweet and comfortable, and for a long while neither moved, content to simply bask in each others' presence.

Then Rin yawned and stretched herself out, giving Saber an eyeful of soft curves and toned muscles. Ishtar's outfit really didn't leave much to the imagination, and the body it hugged was stunning regardless of which mind was in charge. Suddenly things were more than warm, as Saber felt the first embers of desire flare in her belly.

_Really, can you not hold your lusts at bay for even a moment? _She thought angrily to herself. _Yes, it's her, and you don't need to pretend for once, but you've already been selfish enough. You shouldn't - _

"So, did you... want to move to the next step?" said Rin suddenly, interrupting her train of thought. "Not that I care either way, you understand! But after what that useless goddess made me say, I want to make sure I'm getting my money's worth."

Despite the nonchalance of her words, a deep blush had settled on her nose and cheeks. And now that Saber had been pulled from her self-censure, she saw that perhaps she wasn't the only one that wanted to move things a little further. She recognized the slight tremble in Rin's limbs, the primal scent of her arousal.

She felt relief that she wasn't alone in her feelings, and also a bit of exasperation. Some things about Rin would never change, it seemed. Including a misplaced sense of pride and embarrassment when it came to admitting the things she wanted. It was adorable, yes, but it also deserved a bit of teasing.

"Next step for what? Did you have something in mind, Rin?" Saber smiled at her with exaggerated innocence.

"Oh, for god's sake – stop playing around. Just go ahead and do whatever you want."

"No. Not if you don't want this too," said Saber, before she leaned over to kiss her softly. She saw the confusion grow in those aquamarine eyes, and so pulled back with a sigh. "I've lost myself so much in fantasy these past nights, willed myself to see what I wanted to see. I don't want to do that now, not when you're finally here with me. I need to know, really know, that you want this."

Rin stared at her wide-eyed, before she caught herself and replaced it with a glare. An expression so familiar that Saber had to stifle a laugh, knowing it would only irritate her love further.

"Fine," huffed Rin in exasperation, "I want you to fuck me, okay?" She looked away, her face the same red as the ripest cherries. "You had to go and make me say it..."

Saber laughed as she reached a hand down to grab Rin's, and intertwined their fingers.

"What's so funny?" demanded her love, even as she went an even deeper shade of red at the sight of their joined hands.

"You always present yourself as a hardened magus. Always in control. But there is this side of you too, the side that is simply begging to cede that control and have things done to you."

"Getting awfully ahead of yourself there, aren't you? I'll show you control," said Rin, and the flash of intent in her eyes sent pleasant shivers of anticipation racing down Saber's spine. God yes, she wanted this. There was no need for delusion here, for shutting out details that didn't belong to maintain a fantasy. This felt good and right, and she wanted more of it, right now.

Saber lost track of time through all the rather vigorous activity that followed. But she kept her eyes locked with Rin's as much as she could, eager to drown herself in those aquamrine pools. Wanting to commit them to memory, in case this was her last time seeing them. She was still staring into them as she drifted off to sleep, sweaty and exhausted and still savouring the afterglow.

Saber woke up to an empty bed. Ishtar was at the door, once again clad in her white and gold finery, her hand reaching up to activate the electronic sensor. As if sensing the knight's gaze on her, she looked over her shoulder. Red eyes locked with blue, the same as their first meeting. But this time, instead of an insolent smirk, the goddess' smile was knowing, even gentle. And Saber found that for once, there was no shame or guilt gnawing at her. Just satisfaction, and a quiet sense of gratitude.

* * *

In the days that followed, Saber found herself enjoying Rin's company more often than she had dared imagine. Not only in her quarters, but in the corridors of Chaldea as well. In the kitchens, where the woman had strong-armed the cooks into giving her space to cook large portions of Saber's favourites. In the reading room, pouring over Chaldea's extensive collection of materials on familiars.

Saber was confused. And one night, as she lay in bed with Rin, her mind unguarded after a particularly intense release, she asked her about it.

"This is her way of thanking you," said Rin as she played with the ends of blonde locks. "She's had an unholy amount of fun rubbing all of this in Goldie's face." She watched Saber wince in discomfort before pressing on. "Anyway, she's pleasing herself too with this. She considers sex a form of prayer to herself, after all. And..." Rin frowned, "and she likes that we can only do this at her suffrance."

Saber reached up to cup Rin's face in her hands. "Not forever. I promise you. We will help Ritsuka stop the Singularities, restore the world, so you'll no longer need Ishtar's power. And then..."

Saber smiled, her face full of that confidence that she had once commanded as king. There was no hesitation in her next words. "Then we shall go to Avalon." She grinned at the shocked look on Rin's face. "I am sure that Shirou is already waiting there for us. We should not keep him waiting much longer."

Rin stared at her in open-mouthed surprise, then recovered with a snort, an affected shrug. "Avalon isn't for the likes of me. Not after everything I've thought, and done. Anyway, I'm not even your Rin. I'm just a substitute with borrowed memories."

"Am I not King?" said Saber, in a voice so bright and self-assured that Rin's head snapped up to gaze at her in wonder. "I will bring with me whoever I please, bind my heart and soul with whoever I please."

_Even if I am but a copy made by the Throne of Heroes, a facsimile of the real Artoria, I am still myself. I will fight to protect the ones I love. I will move heaven and earth to keep them with me. I won't give in to despair and failure, not anymore_.

"So bear with it, Rin," she said, as she offered an open hand to her. "One day, we'll walk together towards that utopia."

"One day," murmured Rin, and took Saber's hand.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Even when angst is requested, I can't stop myself from fluffing up the ending.

A big thank you to Gladiara for feeding the plot bunny, as well as everyone who followed along. I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope it was fun to read as well.


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